


A Satinalia Gift for Eve

by stitchcasual



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Picnics, Satinalia, adorable gift giving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-10-15 09:08:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17525840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stitchcasual/pseuds/stitchcasual
Summary: Cullen really wants to get Eve something special for Satinalia, since the Inquisition is celebrating it this year. The trouble is...he just doesn't know what to get.





	A Satinalia Gift for Eve

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [criticallyours](http://criticallyours.tumblr.com) as part of a follower giveaway on tumblr, on the prompt of something romantic involving her nonquisitor, Eve, plus Cullen and Adan
> 
> This was a joy to write, I hope you like it!

Cullen is positive he’s worn a line into the rug in his office with all the pacing he’s done over the last few hours, but when he looks down, it doesn’t appear any different than the last time he checked. He stops, sighing, and braces himself with one hand on his desk, running the other over his face. 

“I hope the troop reports aren’t that bad,” the Inquisitor says from the other side of his desk, and Cullen glances up, startled. He didn’t recall leaving the door open, so how did she get in without alerting him? That door has a rusty hinge that still hasn’t been fixed, because he hasn’t requested it and he’s run off any repair crews he’s seen, telling them to go do something more important than see to his door. It’s also the best notification system he has for letting him know that someone has entered the room because not everyone, Inquisitor and scout alike, knocks politely.

Evelyn’s smile dies a little as she scans him from head to hips, taking in as much as she can see of him. Her hands are propped on her waist, and she’s wearing her armor and traveling cloak. Right, of course, they’d received an urgent missive from the Emerald Graves that required the Inquisitor’s personal attention. He’d have preferred to handle it with a team of Inquisition soldiers, not believing the situation to merit putting the Inquisitor’s life at stake, but she’d insisted and he couldn’t countermand her authority. 

“You do have the reports?” 

Cullen nods and hands over the parchment, pushing himself off the desk to stand at his window, staring down at the causeway that will take the Inquisitor and her companions away from Skyhold for the next few weeks. She’d promised to be back in time for Satinalia, decreeing that the whole Inquisition could take a short break for a few hours to eat and celebrate the holiday together.

“You’re distracted,” Evelyn accuses, shaking the parchment. “This is half the report you gave me last week. What’s going on?”

“I, ah, it is?” He accepts the parchment back, scanning it. It is. How embarrassing. He shuffles around his desk to see if there’s another piece he’d left lying around somewhere, but he doesn’t seem to have it. 

“My apologies, Inquisitor,” he says, straightening back up. “I…” He sighs. “I don’t suppose you have any ideas for a Satinalia present?”

“For me? Definitely a second battle nug.”

Cullen snorts a laugh and Evelyn grins at him. “That’s not what I… I’ll take it under advisement.” He pretends to write himself a note on a scrap piece of parchment.

Evelyn watches him, her grin turning thoughtful. “Oh, I see. It’s for Eve, isn’t it?” Cullen flushes, and that’s as much confirmation as she needs. “It is! Cullen, that’s wonderful! I’m so happy for you.” She doesn’t approach him for a hug; they both know she’s recently taken a lyrium draught as she always does just before she heads out of Skyhold on mission. Cullen is proud of her, in a way, for seeking training as a Templar to protect the people of Thedas, but it does make their working relationship a bit strained sometimes. She only visits him before she takes her daily draught, or late enough at night that it’s mostly faded, except on occasions like this where she must. So she keeps a respectful distance and only stays as long as she has to.

“I’ve really no idea though. But if she needs anything for her work, the Inquisition can requisition it. Just ask Josie while I’m gone.” She smiles at him, soft and genuine, then with a short bow, she turns and sweeps out the door.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Cullen stays late in the war room, fiddling with one of the miniature figurines they use to act out troop movements on the map. He’s sure to put it back in the same place he pulled it from after Josephine leaves, letters to write and important people to sweet talk. With Cassandra out in the field with the Inquisitor, that means only Leliana is left, and she arches an eyebrow at him when he doesn’t immediately head off to oversee the training happening in the yard.

“If you’re going to ask me something, Commander, it would be best you do so before you pass out from holding your breath.”

He takes as normal a breath as he can, as if to prove he hadn’t been doing just what she said, but still Leliana smirks knowingly at him. The great doors to the room are closed, and though Cullen knows there’s no one around to hear them, not even Josephine, whose office is closest, it still takes him a few moments to breathe and order his words around in his mind before he trusts himself to speak.

“I’d like to get Eve a Satinalia present. Do you have any ideas?”

Though Leliana’s expression hardly changes, Cullen could swear she looks quite pleased, though why he’s not entirely sure. She rests her chin in the valley between her thumb and forefinger and regards him steadily.

“Why come to me?”

“You...know everything.”

Leliana laughs but it sounds a little sad. “Would that I did, Commander. Then we could finish this business with Corypheus right now and still be back at Skyhold in time for mulled wine and little cakes.”

They share a moment of silence, and Cullen imagines that Leliana’s wish is the same as his own: that they were able to better protect the Inquisitor, give her better intelligence and better troops, and end this war sooner. He’s grateful to the Inquisition, in a weird way, for without it, he wouldn’t have met Evelyn, one of his greatest friends, nor Eve, the woman who seems to have quite stolen his heart and isn’t at all bashful about it. But he also wishes the world didn’t have to see such evil for these people to have entered his life.

“I’m afraid I can’t help you, however,” Leliana continues. “Such a gift must come from your heart, and that is not what I do.”

“But—”

Leliana takes a few steps forward and lays one hand on Cullen’s shoulder. “You doubt yourself too much, Cullen. Have a little faith.” She smiles at him and exits the room, leaving him dumbfounded and in much the same place as before.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

“You better have those ingredients I asked for yesterday.”

Cullen looks around him, wondering who the alchemist is talking to. They’re alone in the tent, Cullen having just swept open the flap and stepped inside. Adan isn’t even facing him, and Cullen pauses, unsure if this is a good time or if he should perhaps come again later. Not that there are many other times left. The Inquisitor is set to return in two to three days, and the Satinalia celebration will happen the night after she’s back at Skyhold. 

“Bah, run away again, good for nothing “assistant.” As though I have the time to chase after him  _ and _ finish everything he’s supposed to be helping me with.” Adan shakes his head, and Cullen can see his arms moving as he stands at a table set at the far end of the tent. Mixing potions for the Inquisitor, no doubt; she and her companions go through a lot in their travels. He knows Evelyn tries to bring the little bottles back, though Bull insists on shattering his, she’d confessed with a grimace one day.

Cullen clears his throat, and Adan looks over his shoulder. He blinks once then returns his attentions to the work in front of him.

“Ah. Commander, then. Come to disturb me with something supposedly important, I suppose? You do know these require delicacy, don’t you?”

Cullen also knows Adan could mix them in his sleep, but he doesn’t say anything. “I wondered if you might know what Eve would like for a Satinalia present,” he says, resisting the urge to scuff the tip of his boot into the dirt beneath his feet. Adan would likely have something to say about that too.

Adan peers over his shoulder again, squinting. He seems to weigh, measure, and judge Cullen where he stands before huffing and again turning back to his potions. 

“I know what I’d like,” he says, corking one bottle and moving to the next. “A decent workspace, that’s what. I provide an invaluable service to the Inquisition and I’m stuck here,” he gestures with one hand at the tent, “and forgotten about until someone remembers about me because they  _ need _ something.” He’s quiet for a minute, and Cullen finds he’s not sure if he should leave or say anything or not.

After finishing another bottle, Adan turns around fully and places his hands on his hips. “Yes, Adan, absolutely, Adan, I’ll bring that right up to the Inquisitor, Adan. Nothing? Then leave me to my work, Commander. This next batch is trickier.”

Cullen lets himself out of the tent.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

“Dorian! Thank the Maker.”

It’s early morning, earlier than Cullen thought most anyone else would be awake, especially someone who had traveled with the Inquisitor and only just arrived very late the night before. But here Dorian is, somehow looking fresh, as though he hadn’t only gotten a few hours of sleep, if he made it there at all. Cullen’s not sure, but the hint of weariness he can see behind Dorian’s eyes when he sits down across the chess table from Cullen seems to indicate that perhaps he had been awake researching and forgotten to go to bed.

“I saw your letter on my desk last night. Odd of you to write me like that. Is there something the matter?” Dorian crosses his legs and leans back in the chair, gesturing to the board. Cullen hastens to set up the pieces. “And how long have you been out here? I don’t know how you southerners stand this cold.”

_ Says the man with one shoulder out of his armor at all times, _ Cullen thinks, but he holds his tongue on that. Today at least. He’ll find another occasion to rib Dorian for his clothing, or lack thereof.

“We’re used to sleeping outside with the mabari,” he says instead as he places the last chess piece. He takes his turn; Dorian always lets him go first, gives them a more level playing field he says.

“Be that as it may…” Dorian trails off, examining the board after Cullen’s opening gambit, a rather ambitious move and rather out of character for his normal strategy. Dorian squints up at him before moving a piece of his own. “You asked me out here for something, I assume, so talk. The sooner you spit it out, the sooner I can beat you and we can all go back inside where it’s warm.”

They exchange a few pieces before Cullen speaks again, leaning forward with his chin on his crossed hands. “You’re friends with Eve. What would you recommend for a Satinalia present?”

Dorian’s eyes widen and his lips curl upward. “My dear Commander, it is quite unlike you to be this unprepared. You are aware, of course, that the celebration is tonight.”

Cullen grimaces. “I am aware.”

With a look of utter delight, Dorian leans forward to match Cullen, ignoring the chess board for the time being. “Which means you are also aware that there is precious little you would be able to procure as a gift before the appointed time.”

“Is there a point to this?”

“Only that I wanted to truly enjoy the first moment you’ve been unprepared for anything in your life, since I am around to witness it. Thank you for that, by the way.”

Cullen stares at Dorian, and Dorian smiles widely before adopting a somewhat more serious air.

“Honestly, however, I’m not sure what you could give her. Just try and pull her away from her work so she can actually enjoy the holiday with the rest of us, hm?”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

At least three people drop by his office that day to remind him of the feast and festivities happening that afternoon, Evelyn among them. She takes in the state of his desk and gives him a wry smile, saying as she leaves, “Just spend time with her. That’s more important than exchanging gifts.”

“Right,” he mutters, running his hands through his hair and taking another lap around the office before trying again to focus on his work. He spends most of his day staring out the window and watching the causeway, even though the Inquisitor and her party are back and no one else is expected to come for another few days at least, Josephine assured him yesterday. He just finds the broad expanse of nothingness beyond it soothing somehow, as though looking out across so much untouched land puts everything in perspective. Whether or not he got his paramour a small gift for one holiday of one year pales when set next to everything else. But he would like to make her smile and laugh and forget about her work for a while.

Finally he can hide no longer, and he settles his great coat around his shoulders, carefully checking the pockets, and makes his way to the courtyard. The Inquisition has enough people that they can’t fit everyone in one place, so they’ve spread tables and lanterns across the whole yard, from the stables to the sparring ring and everywhere in between. There are even some on the landing to the keep.

He walks through the whole thing once but doesn’t see Eve anywhere. Adan just shrugs at him when he asks, and Dorian shakes his head, pointing back at clinic. Someone has strung lights around the clinic’s tents but made sure to erect a barrier to protect the patients still convalescing there from the potentially rowdy revelers. A smart thought and not one he had so he’s glad someone did.

Cullen pushes aside the flap of the tent Eve usually works in, looking around. He can see the tables of notes and scattered lyrium vials pushed against the edges of the tent, surrounding the lower table in the center where she performs her delicate work on the Inquisition soldiers. What he can’t see is Eve. Dorian must be mistaken about his information, but this would be the first time he’s been wrong about Eve in Cullen’s memory. He turns to try the other tents when something hits his back.

His first reaction is panic when arms circle him, but he knows these arms. The weight on him is familiar in size, and so is the giggle in his ear. He chuckles, relieved, and rotates in Eve’s arms to embrace her back.

“Got you,” she says, and she sounds so pleased with herself he finds he can’t be upset at all.

“You know this is the wrong holiday for that sort of thing, right?”

Eve makes a dismissive sound. “Nonsense. If I’m not mistaken, and I’m not, today is Get Eve Whatever She Wants For Satinalia Day.” Her eyes glitter wickedly, and Cullen only just manages to resist the urge to slam his face into his hands, though he does sigh.

“Who talked?”

“Everyone.” She grins. “Evelyn talked to Dorian while they were out in the Graves, and Dorian and Adan compared notes after you spoke with the two of them. And Adan couldn’t resist spilling the beans; he’s a terrible gossip.”

Cullen raises an eyebrow. Adan, a gossip? It doesn’t seem to fit with what he knows of the man, but then again, Eve knows him better than probably anyone within the Inquisition. Cullen clears his throat and shifts his arms so he’s able to take a step back from her, though he doesn’t release his hold on her.

“I may not know what Eve wants for Satinalia, but...I did take a stab at it. Would you do me the honor of meeting me on the ramparts near Cassandra’s practice dummy in ten minutes?”

Eve tilts her head, regarding him shrewdly. Her sharp mind is one of the things he loves about her, though the full weight of it can still be unnerving. “Fifteen. So I have enough time to finish up in here.”

Cullen nods. He does back up fully now, taking one of her hands and bending to kiss it, before releasing her, bowing, and exiting the tent.

The celebration is in full swing as he makes his way from the medical tents to the kitchens to pick up the picnic basket he’d stowed earlier. Throngs of people have gathered on the grounds, more than Cullen usually sees at any one time in Skyhold, and the air is filled with shouts and laughter. Evelyn has done well insisting the holiday be celebrated, Cullen thinks, as he winds his way between revelers while doing his best to not be recognized and dragged into some party game or other. The people of the Inquisition all needed some time off and away, thinking of anything other than what they’ve all been thinking about nonstop since Haven. It’s not a long reprieve, they can’t afford to rest any longer than a few hours, but it’s much better than nothing.

He heads for the corner by the tavern, to the piece of the ramparts above the requisition officer’s building, where there’s a large piece of flat stone. If he looks over the side, he can see Cassandra’s sparring area, filled now with Inquisition soldiers playfully ribbing each other about something that may or may not have happened on their last patrol.

He spreads a large blanket in the middle of the roof and pulls a few pillows out of the barrels where he’d stashed them earlier. The food he sets out as neatly as he can, seeing as it’s mostly the same finger foods the kitchen was preparing for the celebration that evening, and uncorks the wine bottle. He’s honestly not sure what kind of wine it is and just hopes it’s good. 

Eve clears her throat as she approaches, taking in the scene. Cullen stands, bows, and gestures to the blanket. From here, when they’re seated comfortably on the pillows, they can only just see the torchlight below, and above them, stars begin to appear as nighttime creeps closer. He drapes another blanket around Eve’s shoulders and then hands her a plainly wrapped package he pulls from one of his coat pockets.

At his nod, she slips her fingers through the bindings holding the wrapping together. The small gasp of breath when she’s finally revealed her gift is nearly covered up by the sound of the wrapping paper falling to the ground, but Cullen can hear it, his senses finely tuned, in general but also to her.

“Do you like it?” he asks, soft and unsure. “I saw your current one was nearly full and thought—” Whatever else he might have been about to say is lost in a kiss as Eve holds the book in one hand and pulls Cullen close with the other.

“It’s beautiful,” she says when she lets him go, and he smiles at her. She thumbs through the blank pages, enjoying the feel of the leather cover and the quality of the paper inside. Cullen watches her joy with fondness, and he knows he did well.

“It’s the only good thing to come out of Halamshiral.”

Eve snorts. “This and those fancy cheeses. The Maker himself couldn’t pry those out of my greedy hands.” She runs two fingers along the spine of the book then looks up at Cullen, tilting her head. She brandishes the book.

“If you got this in Halamshiral, why were you running about Skyhold asking everyone and their fourth cousin thrice removed what to get me?”

“Ah, I uh…” Cullen rubs the back of his neck. “I wasn’t sure of my choice. And I wanted it to be...special.”

Eve gives him a fond look that tells him exactly how big of an idiot he is. “You should have more faith in yourself.”

“Leliana told me the same thing.”

“Then perhaps you should listen.”

Cullen accepts the gentle rebuke and pours two glasses of the wine. Eve accepts the glass with one hand and extends her other, palm up. On it rests a small, flat package. She gestures it toward Cullen when he stares too long, and he finally reaches to take it. He hadn’t expected anything in return, despite the season’s tradition of gift exchange, and he’s surprised and touched that Eve—

“It’s a comb?” He stares at the (admittedly fine) bone tooth comb in his hand then looks up to Eve for clarification.

“For your coat,” she says, pointing to the fur ruff around his shoulders. It takes him perhaps a moment longer than it should have to realize she’s joking, and then he runs the comb through the fur a few times just to hear her laugh.

She passes over another package then, this one larger and somewhat lumpy in its wrapping, and nods encouragingly at him to open it. He pulls the paper off this one too, one eyebrow preemptively raised, and blinks as he frees the object.

“It’s a rock?” It’s a mostly spherical rock with one small, flat surface, and he’s completely mystified about its intended purpose.

Eve huffs and reaches for it. Cullen hands the thing over and watches, fascinated, as she holds the rock in one hand with the flat side down and taps it twice with her finger. It lights up. It’s a dim light, not casting much farther than their small area here on the roof, and his eyes widen in amazement. She taps twice again, and it brightens further, then twice more and it returns to being simply a rock.

“It’s lamp,” Eve explains, “since I know you work late most nights. And a paperweight so those pesky reports don’t fly off. I designed the enchantment myself, though Dagna had to place it. Would you believe the hardest part was finding a suitable rock to polish and flatten?”

Cullen smiles. “I would if you told me so.”

“Good, then the hardest part was finding a suitable rock to polish and flatten.”

They set to the food then and, over the course of the evening, finish the bottle of wine between the two of them. It’s nice, sharing a meal together. Dining with each other isn’t something they often have an opportunity to do, what with Cullen’s duties to the troops and the Inquisitor and Eve’s work at the clinic keeping them both quite occupied. It’s almost like they’re any two lovers in Thedas tonight, sitting here on this rooftop with their wine, rather than two of the most important support people the Inquisitor has.

With the food eaten, the wine drunk, and the party still going on below them, Cullen turns and scoots backward until he can place his back against the rampart wall. Eve tucks in next to him, pulling his fur coat from his shoulders as she does so, though she offers him her blanket in return. He chuckles and places one arm around her shoulders, sharing the blanket with her anyway. They gaze up and out at the dark sky, studded with so many stars now, and trace constellations with their fingers, Eve inventing scandalous stories about them to make Cullen stammer and blush. If only they could go on like this forever, Cullen thinks, holding Eve just that much tighter. If only they didn’t have to go back to their duties in the morning, and could find a little piece of land to farm and build a house on. But that kind of life wouldn’t suit either of them very well, not as they are now, so it’s maybe for the best that after a while they stumble sleepily to Cullen’s quarters and wake up with the dawn to go their separate ways in service to the Inquisition.

**Author's Note:**

> On [tumblr](http://stitchcasual.tumblr.com) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/stitchcasual) yelling about d&d and dragon age


End file.
